


Dare to Dance

by daydreamsonacloudyday



Series: Isabel Cousland [32]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: AU, Dragon Age AU, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-30
Updated: 2014-05-30
Packaged: 2018-01-27 02:46:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,195
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1712114
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/daydreamsonacloudyday/pseuds/daydreamsonacloudyday
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Isabel and Alistair have to infiltrate a dance party. (AU)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Dare to Dance

Alistair tugged on the collar of his shirt, feeling as if the damned thing was choking him. He hated everything about his outfit, the itchy mask, the fancy shirt with its ridiculously puffy sleeves, and the trousers that hugged him the wrong way and made him walk funny. He would much rather be in his armor, at camp, not at this stupid masquerade with snobby nobles who would probably arrest or kill him if they found out he was a Grey Warden. 

Why was he doing this again? Oh, right… because of _her_.

He hadn't been paying much attention to the three rogues when they started planning the infiltration of this _wonderful_ event. He knew Isabel was excited to finally get out of her armor and into a dress. While he would have wanted to stay by her side (and to see her in a dress, of course), he had no interest whatsoever in going to the party. Strap him up in armor, give him a sword, and send him at darkspawn and he'd do great. Send him to a fancy party? No, no, no… bad things would happen.

But then Zevran had started flirting with her, talking about how much he was going to enjoy dancing with her to blend in with the other partygoers, and his mood had turned sour. 

Blend in? _Blend in?_ The elf just wanted an excuse to get his assassin-y hands all over her. The thought of the two of them dancing, Isabel pressed up against him, hissneaky little hands moving to where they shouldn't be… it made him jealous, to say the least. If anyone was going to dance with her, it was going to be _him_ —despite the fact that he couldn't dance. That was another issue entirely.

Being the _brilliant_ man he was, Alistair protested their plan and got roped into going to the party himself. It was mostly Isabel's doing, as if she _wanted_ to see him make a complete fool of himself. He never should have opened his mouth.

"Alistair?" At the sound of her voice, he turned around, his jaw dropping when he saw her. Her raven hair wasn't pulled up into the bun she usually wore, and instead it was loose, the waves framing her masked face. Her lips were painted red, and it made him want to kiss them more than he already wanted to. And the dress—it should have been against the law for her to wear something like that. The purple gown fit her _perfectly_ , bringing out her green eyes and accentuating every flawless curve of her body.

Maker's breath, she was beautiful.

He was doomed.

"Alistair?" she repeated again, seemingly nervous. Why was _she_ nervous? She grew up going to parties like this. _He_ was the one who had no idea what he was doing.

He promptly shut his mouth and stopped staring— _good job, Alistair, she probably thinks you’re a dirty lecher_. "Isabel," he said, sticking to the simplicity of her name, afraid he'd say something stupid.

"Well?" she asked expectantly. "What do you think?"

"About what?"

"My dress!"

"Oh, right," he muttered, nervously scratching the back of his head. "Well, it's purple—a nice purple, too—and I like the little fancy pattern it's got there. It looks more comfortable than my clothes, and…" He stopped talking when he saw her bite her lip, suppressing a laugh.

"You've obviously never worn a dress if you think I'm more comfortable than you."

"No, I've never worn a dress."

"But still… this is much better than wandering around Ferelden in armor," she said cheerfully. Isabel grabbed his hand and started to pull him towards the ballroom where the rest of the guests were. "We have work to do, so let's get to that blending in and start dancing."

He swallowed hard, stopping before they got to the ballroom. "About that…"

"What?" she asked, turning around and quirking an eyebrow at him.

"I… I can't dance."

"Just follow my lead," she said with a stunning smile, dragging him out into the middle of the ballroom. She stepped up to him, taking his hand and placing it on the small of her back, her other hand linking with his. _Maker_ , she was so close he could smell the soap she'd used when she bathed before getting ready. Thankfully she started moving before he could really think about her taking a bath, and it forced him to focus on not stepping on her toes.

Which he failed miserably at.

Thankfully, Isabel was used to it, or so she said. After a lot of squished toes and muttered apologies he got the hang of the whole dancing thing. He wasn't very good at it, but at least he wasn't crushing her feet anymore.

"I told you that you'd be able to do it," she said, a small smile on her lips as they twirled around.

"Only because I have a good teacher," he replied, his voice soft. Isabel let out a short laugh and then bit her lip, her expression changing. She looked at him like she did when they were alone, those brilliant eyes gazing right into his. He stared back, unable to look away even if he wanted to.

"You're staring again," she breathed.

"I'm sorry," he muttered. He quickly looked away, wishing he could just disappear.

"Don't be." Her voice was so low that he was surprised he'd heard her over his inner turmoil. He looked back at her, his eyes wide as he processed what her words meant. "You can stare at me whenever you like," she continued. "Though, it would be nice if you'd do more than just stare. You know—"

Alistair didn't let her finish, instead stopping their dance and closing the distance between them, pressing his lips to hers. She was surprised at first, but quickly kissed him back, and _Maker_ , it was every bit as satisfying as he'd dreamed. He pulled back and met her gaze, his cheeks starting to burn at his sudden boldness.

"That… that wasn't too soon was it?" he whispered, and she grinned at him.

" _Too soon?_ " She laughed. "Maker, Alistair, I've been waiting _forever_ for you to do that!"

"Forever?"

" _Yes_ ," she breathed, pressing her lips to his again. He curled his arm around her and pulled her closer, completely forgetting they were standing in the middle of a ballroom filled with guests. When they broke apart Isabel let out a content sigh. She disentangled herself from him, lacing her fingers with his before starting to drag him around again.

"Where are we going?" he asked, slightly confused.

"There should be a storage closet around here somewhere," she muttered, leading him into the hallway outside of the ballroom.

"A _storage closet_?"

She stopped in front of a door and whirled around to face him, shooting him a wry smile. "Yes, a storage closet," she said. "Leliana and Zevran can handle things on their own. _We_ have some kissing to catch up on."

She pulled him into the closet and ripped their masks off, her lips finding his in the dark. Maybe fancy parties weren't so bad after all.


End file.
